Rough
by kasswrites
Summary: Suze is married to an abusive Paul...but not by choice - a deal no girl should have to accept. Can Jesse pick up the pieces of the woman he once loved?
1. Prologue

_T'was the original one-shot._

_But then it was made into a story._

_The idea came to me in yoga._

_Yes, I do yoga, because of a request from a friend who didn't want to do it alone. Hardcore._

_I'm perverted. You get that._

_Dum, da dum._

_Rough._

_(Which I am currently pimping)_

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter One - Prologue**_

I gritted my teeth and turned my head to the side in anger, as he held me down, pried my legs open with his own, and thrust inside me roughly. An inevitable tear of pain slid down my cheek, and i felt the warm blood dripping down my fingers as my nails bit into my palms.

I twisted angrily to no avail. Jerking my head up, I tried to hit his own, but he just moved his head and strengthened his grip on my aching arms, causing me to cry out in pain.

I gasped sharply as I felt him deeper inside me, pushing me as far as I could go without screaming. I reluctantly turned to look at him, a murderous expression on my face, and was surprised to see it reflected, if not even more intense on his own. One of his violating hands slowly crept to my neck, pressing there firmly. I realised what he was doing a moment later.

"_No!"_ I whispered in horror – his hand on my throat restricted my already short breath. His other hand came to join his first.

"No" I gurgled, my throat burning. His full weight was on my throat now, and I was beginning to get lightheaded."Stop. You – You're going...too far." I gasped

He lowered his head to mine and smiled angrily. "If you had have just _loved me" _he shook his head.

"_...I wouldn't have to do this"_

And with those six words, my vision clouded and my world turned black.

* * *

_Told you I was perverted._

_Please Review_


	2. Submission

_Hey people._

_So I decided to update, and turn this into a story_

_But the updates might be a bit slow...With Let's get Lost going on still._

_Enjoy, little muffins._

_**

* * *

**_

_**Chapter Two - Submission**_

_September 14th_

"Suze, would you hurry the fuck up and get in bed already?" Paul said tiredly, as I stood in front of my dresser, brushing my limp hair.

"I hate you," I mumbled to myself. But obviously, I was too loud.

"What?" Paul demanded, sitting up abruptly, "What did you just say to me?" I looked up in horror.

"Nothing" I said quickly, my eyes widening and my breath quickening with fear, "Nothing – I didn't say anything" I said, darting to my side of the bed and getting in next to Paul, while he mumbled about 'ungrateful little sluts'.

After physically torturing me with sex, he decided to torture me emotionally.

"Tell me you love me" he demanded in a rough voice. His breathing was still heavy with passion.

Well, as much passion he could get out of forcing me to have sex with him.

Which seemed to be a lot.

I stifled a sob and curled up in a fetal position, facing away from him. When I didn't say anything, he got angry. Sometimes I suspected he was on steroids or something. He just got so angry, so easily.

Propping himself up on an elbow, he leaned over me in what would have been an intimidating way, if I could see him. "Tell me you _love me_, whore!" He grabbed my shoulder and forced me onto my back. _"Tell me_ you never loved him, you always wanted me!" He demanded, his voice rising with anger. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. You think I'd be used to this by now, after three years. You think it wouldn't hurt me anymore, that I could just lie mechanically.

But it still hurt.

And I still couldn't.

At least, not without motivation...which Paul was only too happy to provide. My right cheek not only stung sharply from the slap that I received, but it also ached dully, as result of him hitting a bruise that he had previously given me. I was being defiant, and he didn't like that. When my silence continued, he got a little..._rough._ His hand came to my neck and he firmly applied pressure, not to strangle me, but to threaten me with what he was capable of.

"Okay, okay," I submitted, in fear. His hand loosened around my neck.

"Say it." He said, in a menacing voice.

"I-I love y-you" I stuttered, shaking. "I n-never loved him, I w-wanted you." The tears were falling freely now, but maybe, I thought, they would help. He always seemed to like it when I cried. He lowered his face to mine, looking directly into my eyes. I scanned his face quickly, but he wasn't giving anything away. Suddenly, he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me so chastely that I wanted to throw up. The only person who had ever kissed me that gently was Je–

Nobody.

I had to reciprocate, of course. If I didn't, then I'd be disciplined. After a minute, he pulled away slightly, so that I could still feel his lips on mine as he demanded, "Now say it like you mean it." My face crumpled in misery. This wasn't fair. He dragged his tongue up the side of my face, tasting my misery. His expression was one of arousal.

"I can't." I pleaded, "I don't-" I started saying, but his fist seized a handful of my hair, and yanked my head up, effectively shutting me up.

"You don't tell me what you can and can't do, whore._ I_ tell you that._ Now say it" _he hissed in my face.

_It was going to be a long night._

So there you go. A typical night in the life of me, Susannah Simon. Pathetic, I know. But it was worse if I fought back. I still have the bruises to attest to that. As long as I submitted to whatever Paul wanted, I wouldn't be hurt. He was in control, as he so often told – and showed – me. And most of the time, I just didn't have the strength to fight back. Oh yeah, Susannah Simon, toughest girl in Carmel, who would threaten to break your fingers if you so much as made a comment she didn't like, was now beaten by her husband.

Joy is my life.

But Paul wasn't always like this. When I had first married him, a little over three years ago, he treated me with the utmost respect and dignity. But over time, as he learned that he could never make me love him, never make me look at him the way I used to look at...uh, someone else, he turned sadistic. If he couldn't get love out of me, he could get pain. And he did. He tortured my soul for three years, diminishing me to a useless, beaten housewife. I feared him a lot more than I would have in the past. He just had this..._control_ over me. It was hard to explain. Every night when he came home, if everything wasn't perfect, he'd get angry. And he'd have to take it out on someone.

Oh, right. That'd be me.

But I wont let you think that I married Paul willingly, oh no. I was perfectly justified when I accepted his proposal. If things had gone the way I planned, I would have been a lot happier. I would have a loving husband, a beautiful house – Paul's cold mansion was almost as bad as his previous home – maybe even some beautiful children of my own. I wouldn't constantly have to wear long sleeves and pile on foundation, to cover the cuts and bruises.

But things didn't go the way that I planned.

And this was now.

* * *

_Okay, a little different, but whatever._

_Please Review_


	3. Dreams

_Hey everybody._

_Hopefully you're still reading..._

_This was kinda quick...i seem to like working on this better than Lets get Lost._

_I don't own the song "Everyday is exactly the same" by Nine inch Nails._

_*suspicious looks from readers* _

_"Kassy, are you just putting this song in because you're a huge NIN whore?"_

_"Uh, no. No...It's uh, it's...RELEVANT, okay?"_

_Hm._

_Here's Chapter 3..._

_Enjoy, flame retardant people._

_**

* * *

**_

_**Chapter Three - Dreams**_

_September 15th_

I'm running. I don't know why I'm running – it hurts so much. My arms and legs are heavy as lead and I'm so out of breath that my chest is burning painfully. I can't see what i'm running from, but I know it's right there, close behind me. I'm running from death. But it hurts so much to run, I don't know why I don't just stop and let it take me. Maybe it's the tiny fire of hope inside me that someday I'll have a choice – I won't have to keep running. Someday it'll be better.

I can't go on much longer now – I'm about to collapse. Then, I see a tiny light ahead of me. I'm getting closer and closer, I can make it, but as I reach the source of light – an open door – I collapse just in front of it.

_Oh well,_ I think, _at least I don't have to run anymore_. It's only as I let myself be taken under by the death that I've been running from, that I realise I'd rather run for a million years than be dead. Because as I get closer and closer to the place that I'm descending to, I hear it. "Suze!" It says, "Come on!" It's a very familiar voice – Paul's. And I don't want to be anywhere near it.

I gasp as I jerk awake suddenly. It takes a few moments to realize that the screams I'm hearing are my own. I look around, my breath coming out in ragged gasps. My eyes settle on Paul, who looks surprised and disgusted at the same time. "Fucking hell, Suze." he growls, "Now I have to put up with your melodrama when you're asleep too." I hear myself feebly moan as I fall back against the pillows. The sweat is beading on my forehead, and my body is still trembling with the remnants of the disturbing dream that I just had. After a peaceful few minutes of Paul being in the bathroom, he comes out again, ready for work. He's a lawyer, of course. He was always good at lying – the job suits him so damn well. Upon looking down, I realize that he has something in his hand.

_...Oh shit._

His expression is murderous when he comes over to sit on the bed next to me. He waves the blister packet in front of my face, smiling menacingly. "You're on the pill" he sing-songs, drily. It's not a question.

"Um, yeah...I – I just, uh..." I stutter incoherently, trying to think of something to get me out of this mess.

"I thought I made it clear to you," He says, in a voice as low as I've ever heard him use, "That I want children." He did. Make it clear, I mean. But there was no chance that I was bringing a child into the world and subjecting it to..._that_. I could just imagine a tiny little girl, or boy, being beaten by their father, like he so often beat me.

"But, Paul. I don't want-" I start, trying to pacify him.

Mistake.

"I couldn't give a _fuck,_" With that word, he promptly slaps me across the face "what you want. You are my wife, and you will do as I say. Understood?" I nod, my eyes closed. I don't open them again until I hear him slam the door to our bedroom, walk down the stairs and start his car. I sigh. It's finally time to breathe again.

An hour and a half later, I was sitting in the doctor's office, reading the latest issue of Cosmo. I scoffed sadly at one of the _real life_ stories, titled 'my husband abused me'. A quick glance at the clock told me that the doctor was running late – my appointment was at 10:30 and it was already 10:43. The receptionist had informed me that they had a replacement doctor in today, as my usual MD was sick – ironic much? – and that he'd be running a little late. I looked up as I heard footsteps, and saw a middle aged woman hobbling down the corridor from the doctor's office. I closed my magazine, and looked up as I heard somebody – the doctor, obviously – say my name. I stood up and looked at him for the first time. My mouth dropped open slightly as our eyes met.

_**Jesse**_

I picked up the file and studied the name on it. _Mrs Slater,_ it said. That's it. No first name or anything. Could it be...? No. It was probably Paul Slater's mother or something.

"Mrs Slater? I asked, looking around at the people in the waiting room. Suddenly, a very thin, very pale woman stood up. She reminded me of one of the anorexic woman that I come by all too often. Her hair was deep brown, and fell limp, dead straight, to her waist. Her skin, as I've mentioned, was almost completely white. I looked closer and noticed that her emerald green eyes were set in what looked like a permanent sad, longing look.

"Nombre de Dios" I muttered under my breath, because there was no denying it. It was Susannah. I fought to compose myself, and ended up spluttering a hasty "Right this way" before I strode away to the office I was working in today. She walked into the office reluctantly, glancing around like she was nervous to be here. I wondered why she _was_ here – was she sick?

Once she had sat in the chair across from me, I started the normal conversation. If I could treat her like any other patient, I could believe she was just that.

"Now, Miss Simon," I said instinctively. But then I noticed my mistake "Slater." I corrected myself. The name felt like acid as I spat it out. Susannah Slater. I hated it. "My apologies. What can I do for you today?" she glanced up to my face for the first time, and I bit back a gasp. Her face looked...dead. There's no other word for it. Her once flushed, creamy skin was almost gray, and the purple bruises under her eyes were so deep in colour that I wondered if she ever slept. Her lips were chapped and swollen, and she just looked like she didn't care anymore. I remembered when she was younger, faithfully putting on make-up every morning to enhance her beautiful features. But now, even though she was still wearing make-up, I could tell she hadn't given it much thought. She had a faint light tint to the bags under her eyes, alerting me to the fact that she had used make-up on them. Her face looked almost orange; she had that much foundation on. I wondered why until I noticed the faint outline of what would have been an old bruise on her cheek. I narrowed my eyes and looked over her exposed skin, to see if I could find another bruise, but I couldn't see anything incriminating. I reconsidered – she didn't look like an anorexic.

She looked like a cancer patient.

She faltered for a moment before murmuring so quietly so that I had to dip my head to catch her words."Um, I – uh...need to go...off the pill." I blinked. As was procedure, I asked her why she wanted to. She looked taken aback, so I explained,

"Is it about side effects or something similar? It's important that we get it on your medical record." I said in a slightly strained voice. I could act normal if I wanted, but the truth was, her very presence was intoxicating me. I almost believed that if I stretched my hand out to her, it would go straight through. All those times that I dreamt about her, that I recognised her in somebody else, were put to shame. Because as sick as she looked, she was still _stunningly beautiful_.

But right now, she looked guilty. She averted her gaze to the floor and her cheeks became pink – the first colour I had seen on them today. I didn't know why...until she started talking again. I guess that this wasn't something she'd want to discuss with me.

"Uh, no. No side effects." She said in what I guessed was her normal voice. I say guessed, because I was amazed by it. Her voice was so different. It wasn't what I remembered it to be – it sounded almost hoarse, and she talked very quietly, as if to not upset anybody. "My husband and I" I winced at the word, "have decided to, um, try...conceiving." My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open slightly until I remembered that I was working, and should probably be professional about all of this. I nodded and jotted a few necessary things down on her record, before looking up at her once more. She was rubbing her wrist, as if it were sore.

"Is there something the matter with your wrist?" I enquired; a little suspicious that she had a sore wrist _and_ a bruise on her cheek. As soon as she heard my voice, she snapped her head up, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"No, no." She said hurriedly, her expression as fearful as I had ever seen it, "I just, um...slept on it wrong." Her eyes darted around in fear, and I was appalled at the expression on her face. "So, I, um guess we're done here? I just, um, gotta go..." she hurried out of the office before I could say anything. I just stared at the spot where she had been, and shook my head. _Wow._

_**Suze**_

I walked out of the doctor's office as quickly as I could, pushing the thoughts of Jesse deep down into the back of my mind. I couldn't think about him. Not now. Seeing him had set me off, and now I was thinking all sorts of things; would Paul find out? How bad would he be tonight? I settled back into my normal mode of depression as I was safely shut in my car.

_I think I used to have a purpose  
But then again  
That might have been a dream_

I drove safely, as usual – a car accident was the least of my worries, but if it did happen, Paul would _not_ be happy. I stopped at a red light and noticed that the radio wasn't even on. What was happening to me? I used to love playing the radio loud. Why wasn't it on? It was almost like I was killing all sources of happiness in my life that Paul hadn't already.

_I think I used to have a voice  
Now I never make a sound  
I just do what I've been told  
I really don't want them to come around_

It was almost funny how this one realization could leave me so...shocked. I mean, it was just a radio, right? A few months ago, I had been in the car with Paul, on the way to some function, and I had randomly turned the radio on, because the tension in the car had been kinda creepy. He had quickly turned it off, glaring at me. I learned to never touch the radio again that night.

_Every day is exactly the same  
Every day is exactly the same  
There is no love here and there is no pain  
Every day is exactly the same_

It just scared me, how I was so used to being terrorised by Paul, that now even my subconscious was making decisions about it. I didn't even have to think about talking quietly, behaving myself, not doing anything to annoy him anymore. It just came naturally. Even when he wasn't around.

_I'm still inside here  
A little bit comes bleeding through  
I wish this could have been any other way  
But I just don't know, I don't know what else I can do_

It might have been this realization that set me off. It might have been a thousand other things; I wasn't sure, but suddenly, a ripple of fury surged through me. It felt so good; it was such a stark contrast – all I had felt in so long was pain and misery. It was almost as if I was getting a piece of myself back. I felt stronger somehow. Emotion and stubbornness had been such a big part of my old life that it felt almost familiar. As I reached home and got out of the car, my head was high and my shoulders were thrust back. I was ready to go into battle – Paul's car was here, which meant that I could take him right now. I walked into the front entrance and took off my coat, before walking into the huge, cold living room of his huge, cold house. His voice greeted me.

"So, how was your little meeting today with _Jesse?"_

_

* * *

_

_Please Review_


	4. Memories

_Hey Everybody._

_Had to get this updated._

_I dont own the little snippets of lyrics - they're both from the song "Faded" by Kate DeAraugo._

_Thought the song was pretty suitable :)_

_The first big thing of italics is a flasback btw lol_

_The other italics part isnt._

_Enjoy, small children._

* * *

**_Chapter Four - Memories_**

_September 15th_

With those little eight words, the tiny molecule of confidence that I had conjured up diminished to almost nothing. I stepped forward warily until I could see him, seated in one of the armchairs that we never used. I didn't have to work to keep the confusion on my face – I was perplexed as to how he knew anything about me running into Jesse today. The sardonic smile plastered onto his handsome face invoked a flicker of the fire that my confidence had caused before.

"I – what? I didn't meet with Jesse today." I said incredulously, looking at him as if he was crazy. Oh, because lying to Paul had worked _so well_ in the past. He got up and walked over to where I was standing in three strides. I turned around quickly, so I didn't have to look at that twisted smirk on his face, but regretted as I felt his hands slide around my waist. The shudder was inevitable and invoked by disgust. I was so used to Paul having his hands on me, so why was it still making me feel violated?

I felt his lips come to my ear and I shivered inevitably. "What did I say about lying?" he whispered, his voice adapting a seductive tone. I was disgusted. I turned my head around to glare at him.

His hands moved and latched onto my hips lasciviously, while he smiled down at me lecherously. His hands were burning trails on my cold skin, adding to the twisting, writhing fire within me. I felt the doubtful fear subsiding slowly, rage taking over and consuming my whole body.

"_Suzie." Said a voice from behind me. I jumped and whipped around angrily to tell whoever it was not to sneak up on people like that, but I stopped immediately when I saw who it was. "I had a feeling you'd be here." I wondered if he had some kind of weird shifter ability – I wasn't even supposed to be at school. Neither was he – we had both graduated about a month ago._

"_Paul, leave me alone. You don't have anything on me anymore. Jesse's alive, so you can't keep threatening him, and he already knows about the kiss. So would you just give it up already?" I didn't realize I was babbling nervously until I had finished. I looked up at Paul, whose face was set somewhere between a smile and a grimace. There was a certain sense of foreboding in his appearance, and I didn't like it. "What's, um, what's going on?" I asked, still unsettled by his expression._

_He looked down and muttered something to himself, which sounded suspiciously like "I didn't want to have to do it this way." And then his large, strong hands came to my waist in a harsh, sick parody of an embrace. I instantly protested, trying to squirm out of his grasp, but he just whipped me around so that my back was to him, and held me fast. My breathing sped up, and I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. I yelled – we were in school, surely somebody would come at a scream – but he clamped his hand around my mouth and gripped my jaw painfully. I made some incoherent muffled noise that was meant to be, "What the fuck, Paul?" _

"_Now listen to me, Suze." He said in a low, menacing voice that made all the hairs at the back of my neck stand up, "I'm not playing around anymore." I wanted to scoff and say something sarcastic, but fear had consumed me and I didn't think I'd be able to, even if I wasn't restrained. "You are going to marry me." My eyes widened. Was he sick in the head or something? "...or I will kill him." A frightened, surprised squeak escaped my throat, and I tried to turn around, to no avail. He clamped my jaw excruciatingly and I let out a low moan of pain. "Do you understand?" I had no choice, so I nodded to make him release his grip. I cringed at the thought that there would be bruises there tomorrow. "And do you accept?" he asked in that quiet, frightening voice._

_No._

But it's Jesse...

_I stared at him for a few moments, wondering how he had such an effect over me. Nothing else could take me away from Jesse, but here he was smiling – albeit, grimly – while he did it. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, to give him my answer._

"_Yes." I choked out when I found my voice, feeling the shame and guilt wash over me and settle in the pit of my stomach. He turned me back around to face him, so I could see the warm smile spread over his face like melted butter._

"_You will be my wife." He whispered to himself in astonishment, as if this technicality had just occurred to him. I ducked my head so he wouldn't see the weakness in my expression. "I will have you..." he murmured softly, lasciviously, trailing a finger down the side of my face, unintentionally wiping away a traitorous tear that had ebbed from my eye, "...every night." At this revelation, I felt the tears run rapidly down my cold face. I was betraying Jesse in an unforgivable way, but I was betraying myself even more._

_The wedding night was one of the most dreaded experiences in my life. All through the ceremony, I tried my best to stay strong and keep it from my mind. But I couldn't. So I plastered a smile on and said my vows, even though I was dying inside. It was so ironic that this particular night – which was one of the best in most women's lives – would be my worst. Just another way I was different to everyone else, I guess._

_When all the wedding guests had finally departed, I couldn't hold back the tears. As soon as the sobs stopped heaving my shoulders, I would think about Jesse again, and they'd come back full-force. Paul walked back in to the chapel after showing the guests out, and found me in one of the pews. I turned my head away from his inquiring eyes as soon as I heard him coming. I hated it – crying in front of him, showing weakness – but I couldn't help it. When he noticed the tears, his mouth settled into a tight line and he looked almost...ashamed? He took me out to his car – no decorations, thank god – and started the engine as soon as I got in. The drive was made in silence, of the most uncomfortable kind. The radio was the only thing that wasn't silent. A song came on as Paul turned into the street where his new – our new house was. I heard only three meagre lines before he killed the engine._

_Now I'm faded  
My true colour's gone  
Like a picture nobody sees_

_I felt the familiar feeling of guilt in my stomach, and tried to concentrate on breathing._

_In, out. In, out._

_By the time he had me beneath him on the huge, king size bed in our bedroom, I was shaking uncontrollably. He seemed dismayed – or maybe confused was the right word – by my hysterical state. _

"_What's wrong with you?" his voice was confused, but I didn't miss the underlying bite of anger. I knew I wouldn't be able to speak, so I didn't try. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I'd start crying hysterically. "Haven't you-" realization dawned over his face. "He hasn't had you yet." He said, his voice slightly broken. I turned my head to the side in shame, confirming his suspicions. I couldn't distinguish whether Paul's groan was one of pleasure, or frustration, so I just continued to stare at the pillows as if they held the cure to cancer. _

_I kept my head turned as my clothes came off, moving only to help him remove them, when he prompted me with his hands. _

_I kept my head turned as I felt him ease into me, yet couldn't help but grimace at the discomfort of my dying purity. _

_I kept my head turned as he tortured my body and soul, stealing the secrets my skin held._

_I looked up at him only when he told me to, with an expression that suggested he was shattering my world. I cringed as I felt the hot, wet tear run down the side of my face and seep into the pillow beneath me. He halted for a moment, staring down at me with something akin to pity, before telling me to turn my head again._

"Get your hands off me." I said firmly. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, giving me the greatest high, and I felt more alive than I had in years. He chuckled.

"And why should I do that, Suzie?" he murmured in a patronizing, lewd tone. Suddenly, as hot white rage devoured me, I grabbed his hands and dug my nails into them, drawing blood.

I didn't just want to hurt him; I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to beg pathetically for mercy. I wanted to diminish him and show him that I was in control. He snatched his bleeding hands away instantly, and I turned around to face him in time to see his one of them coming towards my face. I caught it quickly, my lip curling into a hateful sneer.

"You don't get to touch me." I spat angrily in a voice as dark as my mood. If confused was the right word, I would use it. But what I saw on his face was a concentrated expression of shock, astonishment and fear. He looked as if somebody had just threatened his life. That look is something I'll never forget. I knew he'd seen it on my face every day, and loved it as much as I loved it on his at that exact moment. I was retaliating with three years worth of repressed anger and by god; I was really giving it to him. I raised a foot and kicked him square in the abdomen, still gripping his hand, so he got the full force of the blow. I laughed as he staggered back, cussing and clutching his stomach. He disgusted me. He swung at my face, obviously over his surprise at last, but I was too fast for him. The fire inside me was fuelling me, giving me a sense of elation. I kicked at the side of his knees, so he toppled to the ground with a grunt of exertion. I swooped down on him, straddling his waist and pinning him to the ground.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?" he swore, his mouth suddenly twisting into a malicious smile, "_Jesse_ didn't give you what you wanted?" I shook my head in pity.

"You really shouldn't have said that." I said between gritted teeth, before striking out at him in pure, raw hurt. That comment about Jesse...it drove me over the edge. I threw senseless punches at his face, not caring whether they connected or not. Just wanting to cause pain. It was payback in the most physical, raw form..._and I loved it._

Somehow in my blind fury, Paul had grasped my shoulders. I didn't register what he was doing until I felt my head connect with the ground – he had rolled me over, and now he was sitting on my stomach, rendering me immobile.

"You know I'm close friends your doctor, right, Suzie?" he said in a light tone. "When I heard he was sick, I recommended that he contact de Silva as a replacement for a week or so." He explained as if he were talking to a child, "...And I knew you would go to the doctors when I just _conveniently_ happened to find your little pills."

"You didn't..." I turned my head to the side, feeling his fist there a moment later. Both of his hands came to my collarbone as I twisted helplessly, confusing me until he put a devastating weight on them.

"Oh, but I did." I froze when I heard the sickening crack of my bone breaking. I heard him laugh from above me as my collarbone ached. And once again, the pure rage took over. I struck up at his face, feeling his nose cartilage give way. He clutched it immediately, and I took the opportunity to gain the upper hand once more. I somehow stood up from beneath him, effectively making him kneel at my feet. I raised my foot and kicked him in the face, making him fall on his back in an awkward position.

_He'd played with the toy too much, and once it was broken, he threw it at the wall, just to crush it some more. He killed me, and it was nothing to him. I meant nothing. He controlled everything about me. I didn't even have my own judgement anymore; he controlled that too. I couldn't make choices. I was weak and restrained. I lived in fear. He had crushed me for three years, and not thought twice about it._

_But that was all going to change. _

My foot was on his chest as I looked down at him with utter distaste. This _man_ was despicable. And I had given into him for so long. I pushed down on his chest, making him cough. The scarlet red blood was dripping from his nose and his whole face was battered and bruised.

"We're finished." I said in a simple tone. My words were hard and cold.

"_You're finished."_

_I'm not gonna wait around  
Let you run my whole life down  
So you can watch me fade away..._

_

* * *

_

_Please review._


	5. Escape

_Hey everybody._

_I'm seriously hating on this chapter - especially the end - but i just thought, oh well. Why not upload it? _

_Anyway, I just wanted to adverise my newest fic - Vengeance - which only got three reviews. Not to say they werent good reviews, but three reviews hurt my ego. Do you want to hurt my ego?! _

_Didnt think so. _

_Anyway, shutting up now._

_Enjoy, small earthlings._

* * *

**_Chapter Five - Escape_**

_September 15th_

I remember the incidents that followed the fight in a somewhat distorted haze; as if the crystal clear movie I had been watching had blurred and faded. Disconcerting thoughts swirled through my mind in a cloud of tumult, relentlessly repeating the same horrible memories like a broken record. They were delving into the past, right back at the start of all this horror, when I'd first accepted this terrible fate. They wouldn't let me forget how dirty I'd been; how I'd just signed myself over to him without a fight. I was suddenly starting to feel as if he'd taken everything away from me – something you'd think I'd be feeling long before then – and the harsh truth slapped me across the face. Just like he had, _so many times_.

I made the nauseating mistake once or twice of looking down at my body; my clothes ripped and dotted with the scarlet blood that had spilled from Paul's nose. The memories of what he'd done to that body were still fresh in the front of my mind, making a horrible wave of sickness churn within my stomach. I stumbled up the stairs in a blur of metal, bringing back memories of how many times I'd been thrown down them by harsh, strong hands that I was incapable of fighting. In the bedroom...oh god, I knew the scream of anguish was _mine_, but there was no way I could have recognized it as my own when it assailed my ears. That wonderful elation I'd been riding on during the fight crumbled, and I was taken under by an inexorable wave of defeat.

Because ultimately, I knew as well as he did, he was the one that won in the end. I may have fought back and defeated him tonight, but he had overpowered me on so many different occasions, which bled together to conquer me. Tonight though, I became to realize, was _not_ going to bleed in with all those other nights. Because _I_ had won tonight.

_He had lost._

I gathered enough strength from this realization to throw a few things together – my phone, some clothes, my favourite jewellery, a few notes from his wallet; I'd thought I was going to be roughing it that night – in an expensive bag I'd never wanted. As I turned back to look at the bedroom once more, I noticed something I'd been avoiding the whole time I'd been in the torturous room – the bed.

I didn't even realize the hysterical tears until I brought up a shaking hand and felt wetness on my cheek. That's how far gone I was. As soon as I felt the tears, my mind registered the sobs. Horrible sounding, choked sobs that felt like they were being wrenched out of me. My chest was rising and falling in an erratic, shuddering pattern that was completely unfamiliar to me. All I knew was that I had to get out of there. And I had to do it as soon as possible. My shaking fingers came to the zip, and I closed the bag as well as I could, considering certain circumstances. The bed glared at me from across the room, mocking my silent breakdown. I must have just, I don't know, stood there for a while, staring at the bed, because next thing I knew, there was a loud groaning sound from somewhere downstairs, like somebody was coming to.

I stopped dead.

And I mean _dead._

My heart didn't, however. Oh no, it sped up until I felt it in my throat. Making an effort to pull myself together with a calming breath, I picked up the bag that I'd packed and slowly, quietly padded down the stairs, darting my gaze around frantically so I would notice if he decided to pull something.

So you can imagine my dread when I saw him standing there in the middle of the living room, a sardonic smirk plastered onto his blood-smeared face. His cool demeanour mocked my extreme terror.

I froze instantly.

The split second after I'd made up my mind to try slip past him submissively, admitting defeat, I had an astonishing moment of pure clarity.

He didn't have the right to make me sneak around like some scared little stepford wife.

I had won tonight, and if I had to, I'd win again.

We had been staring at each other for a few minutes then, his gaze bearing livid cruelty, mine intense fear. Wasn't that the way it always was? I filled my lungs with yet another slightly shuddering breath, drawing up to my full height.

"Don't you dare come anywhere near me." I said severely, almost believing the conviction in my voice myself. The dark, iniquitous way he chuckled did nothing for my racing heart. But the most unnerving thing was that he remained completely silent. "I mean it." I said darkly, trying to build back some of that angry demeanour I'd been possessed with before. Still, not a word was uttered from his mouth. "I'm going."

He smiled at me repulsively, showing me almost every tooth in his mouth.

"I'd _love_ to see you try."

With those six little words, my breath hitched sharply in my throat, and I had the strangest sensation that I was choking.

It was do...or die.

_Literally._

And so I walked confidently into the living room, leaving the suffocating fear in my wake.

I knew he wasn't going to let me pass. I braced myself for the impending fight I was sure was imminent.

As I went to walk past him, one of his evil hands shot out to wrap around my wrist, and he took a menacing step forward so he was...

...Nowhere near me.

When I opened my eyes again, he was slumped dejectedly against the wall on the other side of the room. I looked around frantically, trying to find the answer to the unavoidable question racing through my mind, but I was alone in the room. Untainted shock had rendered me immobile, so even when Paul groaned and rose to his feet again with an angry expression marring his features, I was still frozen to the spot. The long lost anger I had felt before was _finally_ sparking dully inside me, and as I stared at Paul intensely, an ornament from the shelf behind him instantly shattered to pieces.

To say he looked alarmed would be an understatement.

He tried stepping towards me again, but he only managed three steps before I willed him to fall back against the wall again.

And he did.

With a sudden flash of light, he was knocked back by some unseen force. I stared at him in astonishment for a moment longer, before bending to collect my bag – that had fallen from my hand – and turning around to leave.

His last words still haunt me to this very day.

"You'll always be mine, whore. I'm going to find you, and when I do...You're going to _wish_ you were dead."

Out on the street, I remember next to nothing. All I can recount is the breath tearing viciously at my aching lungs as I sprinted away from hell as fast as humanly possible.

The house where I was tortured, the street I'd been forced to live in, the man who'd dragged me down and used me up were all anathema to me.

But now I was finally _free._

I must have stopped running at some point, for a reason I cannot recount, because I know I wasn't moving when the lightheaded feeling became too much for me to bear. I tried to stop the swaying motion that was threatening to bring up a wave of sickness from me, but it was too overpowering.

The sickening crack of my skull making contact with the cold, hard concrete of the sidewalk was the last thing I remember, effectively forcing me into the sick oblivion of unconsciousness.

* * *

The faint beeping sound of hospital monitors was the first sound I heard when my brain decided grace me with consciousness. The desperate need to descend into sleep was ignored, when a sudden torrent of inevitable questions rained down on my blissfully peaceful state.

_Why the hell am I in hospital?_

_What happened to me?_

_Oh god, I hope Paul didn't go too far...they'll be able to tell._

_**Jesse**_

"De Silva." I turned around abruptly to see Karen barrelling towards me with a determined expression on her face and a clipboard in her hand, "We've got a head trauma coming in." I nodded simply, knowing that the patient's details were going to be the next words to come from her mouth. "Female, twenty one years old, injury caused by a fall." She said, reading off the clipboard. She gestured with her head for me to follow her outside; to the ambulance bay.

"Name?" I asked curiously, just as the stretcher was wheeled from the ambulance. Karen started to say something, but I couldn't hear her, over the toneless sound that was ringing in my ears at the sight of the patient emerging from the ambulance. Chestnut hair cascaded down one side of the stretcher, and her face was so alike in colour that I was momentarily confused as to where the stretcher ended and she began. There were blood stains on her clothes, and a large purple bruise on her face, marring her creamy white skin.

It was then that I collapsed.

* * *

When I woke again, the first thought to enter my sleep induced haze was that Susannah was hurt. And there was no way that I was lying there a moment longer. I sat up rapidly, causing my already faint condition to plummet into a bewildering sense of dizziness. I slowly rose; taking small steps to ensure my position would remain standing, and wandered out into the hallway.

When I arrived at the reception desk, Marie looked up with what could have been mistaken as a seductive smile."Dr. De Silva," she purred, "What can I do for you?" I shook my head slightly, my mind still in a vague mess of thoughts.

"Susannah Simon – uhh, Slater. What room is she in?" Marie looked down momentarily, before looking back up with that infuriating smile still plastered onto her face.

"Room 201, Doctor." I nodded my thankyou and rushed down the hall.

I braced myself with a deep, slightly shuddering breath just outside the door, before I walked into the hospital room they'd put Susannah in. When I walked through the door, my eyes fell on her limp body, lying unconscious on the hospital bed. It was rather ironic how I walked into this kind of situation every day, but only now did I have such horrible thoughts tainting my formerly peaceful state of mind. Her chest rose and fell only very shallowly, and I suddenly wondered – despite my medical training – if she was getting enough air. Had it really only been hours since I'd last seen her? It seemed like days, _weeks_ had passed in the interim. Her already pale face was chalky white, and the bones in her face were as noticeable as the purple bruises under her eyes. I sat in the small, uncomfortable chair next to her and stared at her a moment. Although I'd tried to convince myself otherwise, I still loved Susannah with all my heart. And if she were to leave me – and this world – now...I didn't know what I'd do. I didn't dare to touch her at first – I felt as if I touched her, she would surely break.

"Susannah?" I whispered tentatively, not sure which realm of consciousness she belonged to at that moment, "Susannah?" I reached out a hand hesitantly to stroke the hair back from her forehead.

"_Querida?"_

_**Suze**_

I turned my head groggily as I heard hesitant footsteps come into the room. The chair beside me cringed in audible protest as somebody sat down. "Susannah?" asked a soft whisper, that I almost missed. I tried to open my eyes the next time it was said, but failed miserably – it felt like they'd been glued shut. They snapped open almost instantly however, when I heard a very familiar voice say a very familiar word.

"_Querida?"_ My suspicions were confirmed when, upon opening my eyes, Jesse's concerned looking face loomed in front of my own.

"Jesse?" I asked, sleep making my voice groggy. "What is it with me and hospitals?" A small smile graced his features.

"I don't know, Susannah." He said, shaking his head in good nature.

"Well," I said faintly, "Thank you for looking after me." A grim expression marred his face upon those words, like I'd said something wrong.

"It is I, who should be thanking you."

"What are you talking about?" Asked, still sleepy. I was confused – what did he have to thank me for?

"I spoke to Jack. He told me all about...uh, Paul and yourself."

I snapped out of the sleepy haze then. My breathing sped up dramatically on those words, and shock rendered me speechless. When I found my voice, it was an astonished whisper.

"How much did he tell you?" It was just like Paul to tell Jack about our relationship, so he would tell Jesse that my _husband_ hurt me. Jesse looked confused then.

"About why you...married him, Susannah. Is there something else I should know about?" I sagged with relief and let out a laugh that sounded hollow even to my ears.

"No, no. I just, you know...don't worry." His eyes narrowed in suspicion and I knew he was going to ask another question, but I gave him a somewhat pleading look and he dropped it.

"What happened, Susannah?" he asked, looking down at my body, which was wrapped haphazardously in a hospital blanket. And once again, fear claimed me.

"I-uh, I...fell?" I squeaked.

"How?" I could tell he wasn't buying it.

"Tripped. Um, down the stairs."

He opened his mouth to say something but then seemed to change his mind, and instead just grasped my cold hand, smiling at me in a comforting way.

True, he had hurt me in the past, with words that I had cried endlessly over. But he was still the best friend I'd ever had. And I still loved him, no matter how much I wanted to deny the fact.

And so I fell into a long, dreamless sleep, with my best friend's hand covering mine.

* * *

_Please Review_


	6. Confrontations

_Ah, I have a few points to clear up with this story._

_Firstly, Suze is still a shifter. This fic simply carries on from Twilight, or Heaven Sent, as it's called over here._

_Secondly, yes. I'm aware that this fic should probably be M rated. But I just love corrupting 13-year-olds._

_Kidding._

_Thirdly, Paul will be punished._

_...Just not right now._

_And he cannot die. Sorry, Dawn. _

_Cause I kinda wouldn't have a story without him. _

_Anyway, shutting up now._

_Enjoy, you crazy little people._

_

* * *

_

**_Chapter Six - Confrontations_**

_September 16th_

_**Jesse**_

Susannah without make-up on was extraordinary.

I couldn't understand how things could change so much in just three years.

The morning after she was admitted, I ventured into her room during my morning rounds. She was emerging from the regulation bathroom when I entered the room, sweeping her long, recalcitrant hair back from her face with stubborn determination.

When she noticed my presence, she looked surprised. My own astonished expression must have mirrored her own to some extent, because she shifted uncomfortably after a few moments.

Her face was thinner than I'd realized, and there was no colour in her cheeks whatsoever; she was not at all how I'd remembered her. The deep purple bruises on her face contrasted horribly with the dull greyness of her skin, making her sickly appearance almost piteous.

"Um, Jesse?" She asked from the bed – I hadn't even realized she'd sat back down. She tucked her legs beneath herself before sliding them underneath the cover again, resuming her lying position. "Are you just going to gawk at me all day, or are you here for a reason?" I smiled in spite of myself – she hadn't changed her hostile demeanour in the three years I'd been away from her.

I perched lightly on the end of the bed, leaving my eyes to wander over her face, reading it for all it was worth. She seemed agitated; sort of fearful and flighty. I wondered what it was she was afraid of – a new ghost, perhaps?

There was nothing else in her life for her to be frightened of.

"Susannah." I said, acknowledging her.

"Oh, it talks." She said quickly, her voice taking on the same tone she always used when she was about to burst into one of her full-blown rambling attacks. I winced slightly. "You know, I don't even know why I'm in hospital. I feel absolutely fine, don't you?

"Well, of course you do, because you're a doctor. Wait; is it like, a rule that doctors can't get sick? Because if you're treating all these patients that are sick, aren't you bound to get sick sometime soon? Oh yeah, my MD was sick, wasn't he? That's why I came to you when Paul-" she stopped abruptly, her cheeks turning a such a lovely pink colour that momentarily made me forget why she was blushing. I blinked, trying to take in all that she said, but something told me it wasn't all too important.

And then, before I could help myself, I burst with laughter.

_**Suze**_

He laughed at me.

He _laughed_ at _me!_

Stupid, crazy..._ex-ghost!_

Yeah, take _that,_ Jesse.

I scowled at him, before bringing the hospital blanket up over my head, turning to the side to avoid his face. Jesse's hysterical laughter – which had _not_ stopped, by the way – brought back memories of the summer of my sixteenth year.

When the laughter died, I felt the sheets being pulled from my hands, undoubtedly by Jesse's large, calloused ones. I clutched them tighter.

"_Querida..."_ My breath hitched in my throat on that word. I suddenly didn't feel like joking around anymore. The nickname was almost heartbreaking – all I'd been called for so long was _whore_.

I sat up abruptly, blinking quickly.

Looking into Jesse's eyes, I perceived confusion swimming under the surface.

"Look, Jesse." I said flatly, dropping all pretences. "Why am I here?" He heaved a sigh.

"You collapsed." He said simply, all traces of humour gone from his face. I gave him a blank look that was supposed to say,_ oh, really? I thought I just went to sleep on the god-damn footpath._

"From exhaustion." He continued, regarding my look, "You haven't been eating properly. Or sleeping enough. You body has many injuries, some not even from last night, when you collapsed. You have an uncharacteristically significant number of bruises, and your collarbone is...broken." he said, eyeing me suspiciously. "You're under a lot of physical strain at the moment."

My face was deadpan. Because I know the physical strain didn't amount to half of the mental burden that I carried. I forced a laugh from a throat that wanted to sob.

"Oh, you know me, Jesse. Always getting into scrapes with ghosts, and...stuff." I said quickly, hoping he wouldn't realize just what the 'stuff' was. He nodded perceptively.

"Jesse." I said abruptly, completely off topic, thinking back to the night before, "Have you ever...um, made something move, with – with your mind?" I asked, still confused about what I was asking. He gave me a pointed look.

_Oh. Right._

"Oh. I mean, um, when you weren't...dead." My words were blunt and clueless. I was making such a _lasting_ impact on Jesse, after three horrible years. No wonder I wasn't exactly counting the lustful looks. I mean, not that Jesse ever gave me lustful looks, but he used to look at me like...

Oh, God. My brain is _fried!_

_**Jesse**_

"Well," I started, thinking back to the chats I used to have with Dr. Slaski, while he was on his deathbed, here at the hospital, "Ghosts, as well as shifters, can make things move, with telekinesis, of course." She looked startled.

"So-so I have...I have the same abilities you had when you were a ghost?" I nodded, a little amused that I'd rendered her almost speechless.

"Oh._ Ohh._" The shock was obvious on her face, and she averted her gaze to the hospital blanket over her legs. "So that's how I threw...Paul never-" she whispered so softly that I was sure she wasn't even talking to me anymore. My jaw clenched at _his_ name, and it reminded me why exactly, I was supposed to be here, in this room.

"We have no record of his details, Susannah," I said, suddenly formal, "so you'll have to give us your husband's phone number. Do you know it by heart, or do you need your mobile phone?" She froze upon these words, her mouth hanging open slightly. The fearful look that had been creeping onto her face multiplied tenfold, and I knitted my own brow, confused.

"Uh. Do you have to...call him? Or can you...call somebody...else? For-for me, I mean..." I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

"What are you-Why don't you want us to call him, Susannah?"

_**Suze**_

The dread pulled me under into its freezing depths once more.

There was no way I could get out of this.

If I told Jesse about everything that went on, and left Paul, I'd be killing him. Because I had no doubt that Paul _would _actually kill Jesse as soon as possible. If I went back to Paul, I would kill _myself_ before I knew it. I wouldn't – no, I _couldn't_ go back to all that torture.

"I..." My features were frozen in a state of anxiety, and my body was completely immobile with fear. I couldn't have Jesse know about this. I couldn't let him see how horribly pathetic and hopeless I had become.

"Susannah." He said sternly, calling me on my bullshit.

I sat up, throwing the hospital blankets aside. "I need to go. I should get out of here. I'm going to get in trouble-"

"In trouble?" he asked, alerting me to what I'd said. I stopped.

"Get in trouble? With whom, Susannah?" His eyes scrutinized my face, as if I had MY HUSBAND BEATS ME written on my forehead in size 72 font. They settled instead, on my cheek, which was swollen and bruising up quite nicely. Or _not_ nicely, if you want to look at it that way.

"Who gave you that bruise?" he asked slowly.

"I-" my breathing was betraying my calm façade. As was my darting eyes and horrified expression. "A..._Ghost?" _I whispered faintly, sounding like I was asking whether he would believe it or not. He continued to scrutinize me with that piercing gaze. "Paul said-"

"Susannah. Does Paul...Is he..._abusive?" _he asked incredulously, like he didn't want to believe it. I forced a choked, hiccupping sound from my mouth that was supposed to be a nervous laugh.

"No. Of course not." I said, still trying to laugh. But even I noticed how much my voice shook. One glance at my face turned him positively pale.

"_Nombre de Dios!"_ he said, a horrified expression contorting his dark features into such pain and remorse that I couldn't bear to look his face. I turned my gaze to my hands instead, which were clasped in my lap. He stood up and started to pace the room, muttering fierce Spanish underneath his breath. Hopeless tears gathered in my eyes at how futile it had been.

All the energy had been drained from me with this confrontation, and my body suddenly felt too heavy to support. I leaned back against the headboard, feeling completely and utterly spent.

He looked back at me after a few moments, and the expression on his face alerted me to the fact that he'd just seen who I actually was; a pathetic little girl that regularly let a man beat the crap out of her, because she was too afraid to get out. I closed my eyes and willed the tears to retreat. I wasn't Jesse's _querida_ anymore. I was Paul's whore.

Paul always knew he was hitting a nerve with that word – that horrible derogatory phrase that proved my worthlessness. He was hitting the nail right on the head.

Because that's what Jesse had called me.

I'd told him bluntly, tersely, not wanting to make it harder for him; not wanting to make him still want me after I was in Paul's grasp – I was, after all, doing this for him.

"I'm marrying Paul." Were my exact words.

I never blamed Jesse for reacting the way he did – it was only natural to do so. He thought I'd been cheating on him. Especially after...

...Yeah, you don't really need to know about that.

And that's when he'd said the words that haunted me even deeper than any of Paul's could – "You're a whore, Susannah. You disgust me."

His words were harsh and cold and I couldn't find one shred of kindness or affection in their unforgiving depths. The warm mirth in his eyes had frozen into a state of disdain. His lip curled into a hateful sneer that I tried so, _so_ hard to ignore.

In the end, I didn't defend myself. I didn't want to make him see any good in me, in case he saw through my façade and realized I was not willingly signing myself over to..._him_.

If he still felt something towards me, he'd just find it that little bit harder to get on with his life. He was alive, so he could find somebody else.

Right?

I absentmindedly wondered, feeling the sunshine from the hospital window beating down on me, if he had found somebody else. I didn't know if I wanted him to have or not.

"Look, Jesse." I spoke up, trying to force my words to make sense, "So we fight sometimes. There's nothing abusive about it, okay?"

Oh, how I lie.

He turned his cold gaze – one that I recognized from that day, three years ago – on me, scrutinizing my face for what felt like the millionth time that day.

Everything was starting to get kind of...blurry when I looked away from him again, so I shut my eyes adamantly, trying to regain my sharpness. When I re-opened them, Jesse was sitting on the seat beside the bed, that's always just so _conveniently_ put there, like they were expecting somebody to come and sit in my hospital room.

Snort.

As if anybody would want to come and see me.

Jesse's expression was one of pain, remorse and regret.

And I was causing it.

"Stop it!" I groaned, the weary feeling taking over.

"Stop what?" he asked quietly.

"It's not your fault that any of this happened, okay? I chose it all. I chose to accept this deal. I chose to give myself to Paul." His gaze hardened. "Oh, God." I said quickly, making amends, "I never wanted this! Please believe me when I say I never wanted Paul, Jesse. I'm telling the truth. Promise." my voice was weaker than before; I'd been completely drained by this conversation.

And suddenly, I felt his warm, calloused hand on my cheek. I felt as if I might burst. The blood rushed to my face, turning me bright red. The nostalgia was too much to bear. It was so like old times that a tear ran down my face, only to be brushed away by his thumb. It had been _so long!_

So long since I'd been touched like this; with affection.

It was too much. It was hard to breathe.

I looked up into the concerned depths of Jesse eyes and held my gaze. If I could just imagine that none of it had happened...

"Suzie, honey!" Jesse pulled away from me like I'd caught fire. I whipped my head around to the door, where my mother was standing, beaming at me like she'd just caught Jesse and I in bed together. Which was kind of wrong of her to do, since for all she knew, I was happily married to Paul Slater.

"Mom?" I asked meekly, confusion contorting my face into an odd shape, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm here to see you, of course, Suze. I _am_ your next of kin. It's not like I've seen my baby girl in _three years_." She said, sternness creeping into her tone at the end of her sentence. Jesse, who – once again – I hadn't noticed had moved, held out his hand to shake her own.

"Good morning, Mrs. Ackerman. I'm Dr. De Silva, Susannah's doctor." She smiled at him, before saying something completely horrifying.

"Oh, you're the boy Suzie used to have a crush on!" She peeked around at me as if to say, _Ooh, isn't this exciting?_ I didn't have to listen to hear Jesse's chuckle – it was blatantly obvious in the almost-silent hospital room "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. De Silva. Isn't it a small world?" She said, before – and I'm not even joking – winking at him.

_AAH!_

"Mom, we have some...things to talk about, remember?" I butted in, trying to hinder this horrifically embarrassing exchange. Jesse smirked a little before nodding and leaving the room, closing the door silently on his way out. Well, at least my mother had cheered him up a little. Perhaps he wasn't planning to interrogate me later.

And perhaps I'm full of shit.

"Suzie. That wasn't very polite. I thought you liked the boy?" I sighed. Seriously. I was _married_, and she was still at it.

"Look, mom. I have to talk to you about something." I said, in as serious a voice I could muster. The way her face suddenly turned solemn alerted me to the fact that it must have worked.

She came and sat down on the chair that Jesse had just vacated, looking at me imploringly. She collected one of my hands in her own, and cocked her head to the side curiously, as if to say, _what is it?_

I was startled. My hand was smaller than hers. It didn't make sense. My hands had always been larger than hers. Had I really changed that much?

"I need to come back." I blurted suddenly, before any inhibitions could make me stutter or change my mind. My mother's face told me she didn't understand.

"What do you mean, Suze? Where do you need to come back to?"

"Home."

* * *

_Reviews are like listening to Avenue Q when depressed._

_So, do._

_Please Review._


	7. Safe?

_I'm so sorry, everybody. I know it's been a millennium._

_I've been writing and re-writing this and..yeah._

_I still haven't got it right but I really feel like you deserved an update :)_

_Enjoy, daaahlings._

_**

* * *

**_

_**Chapter Seven - Safe?**_

_September 17th_

_**Suze**_

_There are days when I'm okay, and for a moment; for a moment, I find hope._

_But there are days when I'm not okay, and I need your help, 'cause I'm letting go..._

"Mom, can we please change the song?" I finally blurted out, biting my lip to stop my face from screwing up. She looked over at me, seeming awakened from whatever daze she was in, before blinking a few times and nodding. I reached over to the radio dial and flicked it over to the next station, which was playing an annoyingly repetitive electro-pop mix. Still, I preferred the rubbish music to the depressing song on the other station.

"So Suze, I think it's time we had a talk." she said in that ominous parental voice that most parents saved up to use on their kids when they'd discovered they're sneaking out, or seeing a secret boyfriend or whatever. I held back a sigh and plastered a fake smile on my face that was too familiar to be comfortable.

"What's up?" I tried to make my voice sound perky, but even I noticed how flat it was.

"Are you...I mean, you're looking...and Paul..." she didn't seem to know quite where to start, if her hesitation and grimaces were anything to go by. I waited patiently for her to give me a complete question, unconsciously digging my fingernails into my palms so hard that I later realised, half moon shapes would be embedded there for a few days. She seemed to gather her thoughts in just under a minute and started with, "What exactly...happened with you and Paul? I mean, are you two having difficulty?" I opened and closed my mouth for a few moments, adamantly deciding that my mother did not need to know the details of our relationship. Why cause her even more pain?

"I just...I think we want two different things at the moment. I need a break from it all, you know?" She nodded slowly, seemingly grasping the concept of my words. Her next question took me by surprise.

"So, are you..." she hesitated, biting her lip for a moment, "Having trouble with...with eating?" the question came out extremely unsure and I had to ask her to repeat herself before I accepted that yes, she had just asked me if I had an eating disorder.

"What are you _talking_ about?" I asked, bewildered. This was – this was crazy! As if I had an eating disorder.

"Susie, I didn't want to say anything...but, you're wasting away. You're so thin – sickly, so. You look so pale, and...it just hurts, baby. It hurts to see my baby girl, my daughter, hurting herself like this." My jaw slackened as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. I shook my head in disbelief – I had tried so hard to cover up all of this, so that I didn't cause anybody else unnecessary pain. But that turned out as just one more thing that I failed at, didn't it? God, why can't I do something _right_ for once?

"Mom, I don't have an eating disorder, okay? I'm not even..." I trailed off, not quite sure what to say. I mean, what _could_ I say? This was all so bizarre; I felt like any moment, I'd wake up in that house of his once more, facing another day of psychological and physical abuse. "I haven't even noticed, I mean, sure I realised that I slimmed down a little, but wasting away? Mom, I think you're making this out to be more than it really is."

She shook her head a little, seemingly to clear it. "Well, as long as you're not...starving yourself, I guess I..." she seemed to give up after that.

"_Susannah. We need to talk." I rolled my eyes._

"_Uh, actually...No. We don't need to talk at all, Jesse." I squeaked. The dogs in this part of town must have been going crazy at the pitch I was emitting. "No talking is necessary, just really don't have to, uh, talk. Haven't really got time for talking anyway, seeing as I'm such a busy woman...I just need to get changed and sign out. Because I'm going to go home and...yeah. Home." I really needed to stop doing this whole babbling thing._

"_Susannah." he said thoughtfully, after a long pause, "Not _all_ of your injuries were sustained recently. What..." I was doing a real good impression of a goldfish until his eyes softened and he took a step forward, raising his hand as if to lay it on my cheek. I stared at it as it hovered in the air for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he gave up and dropped it to his side again. _

_So this was the way it was always going to be. He was willing to fight for me, but only within his own boundaries. I turned around and started to rummage through my bag, trying to find something decent in the stack of clothes my mother had brought me from my old bedroom. I settled on my old ripped jeans – although I wasn't sure why she'd packed them, I thanked my mother – and a black silk tee and went into the bathroom to change, counting my blessings that I never had to wear one of those horrible hospital gowns._

_By the time I came out of the bathroom, he had gone._

I exhaled deeply and leant back in my seat, watching Carmel roll by outside the window. I have to say, I did miss it while I was cooped up in that huge house. I mean, playing the stepford wife doesn't exactly grant you the widest variety of scenery. I missed going to the Coffee Clutch with Cee and Adam. I missed just hanging out with Doc at the house, listening to his inane chatter about whatever was fascinating him. I missed walking on the beach with-

Never mind.

By the time mom pulled up at the house, I could feel the butterflies in my stomach trying to escape. I would be so happy to see Doc and Sleepy. Hell, I'd even prefer Dopey's company to Paul's. I stepped out of the car gingerly, while my mom came around to help me.

"I'm fine, mom. Really." She hadn't asked me what happened yet and I knew it was soon to come, but for now I was thankful for the cessation of 21 Questions About Suze's Injuries.

As I climbed the front steps, a feat which was not without effort, I had the joy of Doc running over to me and trying to tackle me. I ground my teeth together to stop an expression of pain uncovering itself on my face and even managed a small smile.

"Hey, David." It was weird seeing him all grown up, but thanks to my mother, posted family pictures had left me feeling not totally out of the loop.

"Suze! I missed you so much, are you moving back here? Cause I need you to meet somebody I've recently met and it would be so cool to have you back here again, have you eaten cause I made sandwiches and I would really like you to try one I mean of course they wont be as good as Andy's cooking but I'm still learning." He heaved a breath into his little lungs and opened his mouth to speak some more but I calmed him with a smile.

"That sounds really good, Dave."

The house was a little different than I remembered, but thankfully my room was still the same. It had surprised me how different it looked through my eyes, now that I had lived somewhere else. The frilly canopy was sadly nostalgic and I had to take a few breaths before I put my bag on the floor and sat on the bed, looking round myself like I hadn't actually lived here for two years. I consciously avoided looking at the window seat. Somehow I just knew that it would be too much to bear.

As I got up to make my way back downstairs, my little Nokia chirped in my bag with a received message. I put off checking it until later – I had my family to see.

His sons may have changed, but it seemed to me that Andy had stayed exactly the same since I lived here. Doc had gotten taller and his ears less noticeable, now that his head had caught up with their size. He'd had his hair cut in a kind of layered mop, which, surprisingly enough, suited him. Dopey had gotten a little wider, but the only other change was his taste in fashion – it seemed to have evolved. I assumed this had something to do with a woman's influence.

The brother that had changed the most was Sleepy, and that was because of the new piece of jewellery he had acquired during my absence.

"So, who's the lucky lady?" I had asked casually as we sat down to Doc's sandwiches. He smiled and his face darkened to red. He didn't seem in any hurry to answer me, so I looked to Dopey in confusion.

"Your friend." He said around an egg-and-ham sandwich, "You know, Gina."

It hit me like an oncoming train.

"Gina?" I asked, almost breathless, "Gina Augustin?" Everybody bobbed their head in confirmation, like I should already know this somehow. "Oh, okay. That's cool." I said, pretending like it didn't bother me in the slightest that I never received a wedding invitation.

"But you'd know this of course, Suze," Andy said slowly, as if he was speaking to a child, "Because you RSV-Ped, remember?" I shook my head, confused.

"No, honey," my mother said aside to Andy, "Paul did, remember?" My heart sank to my stomach, where it was eaten alive by the butterflies trying to break free from my skin. "It was last August, when you were terribly sick, Susie. Paul said you'd have loved to come, but that you couldn't get out of bed. I wanted to come see you, but I've never had the chicken pox, sweetie."

Chicken pox, my foot.

I nodded like I knew what she was talking about. "Oh, yeah. I must have forgotten, you know, with the fever and everything." Did you get a fever from chicken pox? I sure hoped so. If I'd said anything out of place, nobody noticed. The tray of sandwiches was finished by the time I looked over again, so I began clearing everybody's plates.

"Suze. Stop that!" my mom exclaimed dramatically. I looked around, confused. "You've just got back." she explained, "Why don't you go upstairs to rest? You must be tired." I opened my mouth to protest, but instead of words, a yawn floated through the air to my now smug looking mother.

"Okay, okay." I muttered, slowly making myself up the stairs until I made it into my bedroom and collapsed into my bed.

I surrendered to a black, dreamless sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

_Beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep._

I groaned, half asleep and rolled over to hit the snooze button. Nothing happened. As I sat up in bed, I looked at the clock. 11:32 pm. Another beeping sequence alerted me to the fact that my phone had roused me from my sleep. I stumbled over to my bag and dug it out. **3 new messages.**I opened my inbox as I sat back down on my bed.

**Paul.**

**Paul.**

**Paul.**

I hesitated before opening the oldest one.

_Suze, you'd better come back home soon._

Original. I sighed and scrolled up to the one that had just woken me up, minutes before. My finger hovered over the center button for a second before I finally pressed it.

_If you're not here by the time I get home tomorrow, there will be consequences._

My heart started picking up speed before I calmed it with logical thought. He didn't know where I was, which meant he couldn't come and hurt me. It was going to be okay. It was going to be okay.

I really didn't realise how un-okay it was going to be until I opened the newest message that he had sent not two minutes ago. My hand started shaking so bad that I dropped the phone, leaving it to clatter to the ground noisily. I stood up and walked to my door before I gained my senses and collected my bag and a few things from my old closet.

Making my way silently down the stairs, I scrolled through my inbox to delete the messages from Paul. I accidentally scrolled down one too many and ended up deleting a message from my mother. A screen popped up to tell me that the message had been erased, accompanied by a loud beep. I stopped, my heart racing, and looked around to see if anyone was coming to see what had happened. I slipped my phone back into my bag – I couldn't afford the noise at the moment – and continued to make my way down to the entrance hall.

The front door creaked a little as I let myself out into the cool night air, closing it tightly behind me. I made my way down pine crest quickly, frequently looking over my shoulder.

_You didn't think you could hide at your parents, did you? I'm coming to get you. We're going home._

_

* * *

_

_Please Review. _

_Just click that little button and say something like, "This blows" or "Paul's evil."_

_It only takes ten seconds. Promise :)_


	8. Passions'

_I really haven't realized how long it's been._

_Let me just say something here - I don't write chapters in advance. Nor do I plan most of my stories. So in the time between updates, I'm writing the chapter. Or writing another chapter for another story. Or having a life. Haha :)_

_Also - and i'm sure those of you who write can relate - you don't always have it all mapped out - sometimes you're just not in the right mindset to write on a particular story. Thus how other stories come about. And you need something to write about before you start writing; you need inspiration, and that's not always such an easy thing to come by. Unless you live somewhere very beautiful or have an extremely dramatic life._

_Anyway, that said, I am sorry it's been so long on this one, but I have spent over 20 hours writing and editing this chapter (According to Microsoft Word, anyway - I'm a little skeptical at its validity)_

_A big thankyou and a 'you're amazing' to, plainlyironic, ludmilla0398, sportybookworm, silverose17, silvermoonlightwings, crazysujufreak, harlequin99, sarah, amanda109, holly J, iluvmediator!, I want to be Jesse's girl, babyanne116, -desilva-hale, GRACE, Lorilori, Hayleigh, KellyJackson, 3, Jessica, Pinta08, _DeathByIambicPentameter, doritori &ticklemecutie. You guys are sio great and you're the reason i keep writing! So kjeep the reviews coming :)

_ Pero disfrutan, ustedes!_

_**Chapter Eight - 'Passions'**_

_September 17__th_

_**Suze**_

My long, straight hair whipped around my face as I sprinted frantically through a dark, deserted Carmel, my lungs struggling to keep up with the harsh breaths that were tearing them apart. I pulled my leather jacket in closer to my body, searching for warmth. I was disappointed in my efforts and I shivered as I turned into the only street that I remembered from my numerous visits. I slowed my pounding feet when I saw the light that I had been looking for; an ambulance was pulling up at the emergency room entrance as I approached it from the other side of the road. I tried to calm my breathing when I halted, but each breath was like a knife sliding down my windpipe. Maybe running five miles was a daily task for Craig Jankow, but it definitely wasn't for me.

I was lucky tonight; he was standing in the cold, paying attention to the ambulance that was having trouble pulling in. He looked over when he heard my footsteps, locking his dark eyes with my own for a moment. I kept my face blank as he murmured something to the 5-foot-nothing blonde standing next to him, wearing scrubs identical to his. She looked exasperated for a moment, and said something to him that looked like a serious warning, but then nodded anyway. She gave me an odd, unhappy look once she'd warned Jesse, which only served to confuse me. Each exhale was a white, fog-like stream into the cold night air. A shiver began in the base of my spine as Jesse crossed the road, a concerned yet wary expression on his tan face.

"Why aren't you at home?" A rushed no-nonsense voice. I opened my mouth, the words _aching_ to come out. I wanted to tell him. Oh God, I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to surrender into his gentle touch, his clean smell…

I closed my mouth again.

"I couldn't...stay there." I'd had my entire run to come up with an excuse as to why I'd had to leave, and it hadn't even crossed my mind. Not once. I pinched the top of my nose, desperate to stop the tears that I knew were imminent.

"Susannah, what happened?" I stood there haplessly with no idea what to say. I wanted so, _so _badly to turn around, walk back home and tell him to forget about it, but there was no way I could do _one_ of those things. I couldn't let my family find out who I'd been married to all these years. I just couldn't. I opened my mouth, prepared with another lie to cover another bout of pain, but the blonde re-appeared before I had the chance, a perturbed expression on her face.

"Chief!" Jesse turned around. "We need you in here." He dug into his pocket after a moment of deliberation and threw something to me, which jingled when I caught it – a ring of keys.

"Forty-two Santa Rita Street. Do you know it?" I nodded, dumbstruck. "Make sure you get a cab. Don't walk." He surreptitiously slipped me a twenty from his pocket as well as another curious glance before turning and jogging back to the little blonde woman. I stared at the keys, glinting in the light casting out from the street lamp next to me. I was rendered unable to move for a moment, for lack of space to think, the confusing thoughts swirling through my mind in a haze.

I was going to go to Jesse's place. I was going to go to where he lived.

The more I thought about it, the more the plan seemed to make sense. Paul wouldn't be able to find me there, and it'd be much safer than staying with anybody else. I brushed my hair back off my face and started making my way to the main road to hail a cab.

* * *

The fifty-something driver of the cab I'd unfortunately chosen was not-so-surreptitiously leering at me intermittently via the rear-vision mirror as he drove me to the address Jesse had given me. His gaze set off something in me; something that put me on edge and told me not to trust him. The Bluegrass Country music playing on the old, battered-looking CD player was driving me half insane, but I wasn't prepared to ask him to turn it off.

"So, where's a pretty lady like you goin' at this time of night?" I tapped my fingernails on the armrest and pointedly ignored his southern-accented question. _Remind me to thank y__ou for this inviolably safer choice to walking, Jesse. _

"Hey, lady. I asked you a question just then." He said irritatedly, his face turning severe. I looked up at him through the rear-vision mirror.

"I'm going to a _friend's."_ I enunciated slowly in a voice as cold as ice, my nerves making me jittery. He laughed heartily, which made his face appear to be curled into a sneer.

"A real _good_ friend of yours, I guess?" he scorned. Rage was starting to flicker in the base of my spine, pumping adrenaline and hate through my body. I didn't hate this man per se, but he reminded me of somebody that I despised with every thought I possessed, which was a very unfortunate thing. Unfortunate for him, anyway. I flexed my fingers and curled them into fists, squaring my jaw.

"If you want any money from me, you'd be wise to shut your mouth right about now." I was letting an idiot taxi driver rile me up again after I'd done so much to calm myself down. Thankfully, he seemed to realise I wasn't playing around and decided to give up on the leering. I gazed at the few lights sliding past the taxi window and tried to think of a worthy explanation for Jesse for when he arrived home.

* * *

There was no denying that the place was nice.

I had figured an apartment in a building maybe, but not one of those single apartments; you know the ones – joined to a completely identical apartment. It made sense, of course, Jesse being a doctor. He could probably afford to buy a house, but then that wasn't really a Jesse-esque thing to do. I paid the oleaginous cab driver, completely evading the idea of tipping, and hightailed it from the taxi as fast as my legs and nerves would allow me.

As I struggled with keys to unlock the hardwood door, I was overwhelmed by the strangest feeling, leaving me consumed with wondering what was causing it. The only way I can describe it is a feeling of…well, a feeling of being at home after being away for a long time. It struck me that the sense of comfort that I automatically associated with this place, which I had never even been _ne__ar_ before tonight, was something I'd never before experienced.

This apartment, which I had never set foot in before, felt infinitely more like my home than the house I'd existed in for the past few years, and that scared me a little. I tried to brush aside my feelings, focussing on getting the difficult lock to relent under the key. After a minute, I won my battle with the door and pushed it open with only a little exasperation, unsure what to expect from Jesse's home. I walked in slowly, casting my gaze around myself to see the apartment.

The entrance hall led to a spacious open plan kitchen and living room, a high island counter separating the two spaces. A long hallway off to the right of the living room must have led to a bedroom and bathroom, but I didn't think it was too decent of me to go snooping around. Thinking about Jesse's bedroom elicited a not-so-unpleasant humming in my veins, which made me clamp down on that thought with a healthy dose of denial and meander over to inspect his kitchen. The apartment itself was decorated in tasteful shades of cream and blue, including the kitchen cabinets and benches. I swung the refrigerator door open as I entered the kitchen and bent down to get a look at what Jesse had been snacking on.

By the time Jesse arrived back at his apartment, I was void of an adequate story and full of the chocolate chip cookies I had found in his top cupboard. My appetite seemed to be coming back with a vengeance since I'd left Paul's house. I was completely – and I mean _completely_ – engrossed in an old re-run of '_Passions'_ when the door abruptly swung open, causing me to jump and let my guard down enough for a small shriek to escape my lips. Jesse's own lips tugged up in a smile as he took off his coat, hung it up and made his way over to the sofa where I was trying to make my heart slow down. Okay, so maybe it wasn't such a _small_ shriek.

"You really shouldn't scare people like that." I couldn't help the sulky tone that had somehow crept into my tight voice. I crossed my arms over my chest for something to do that didn't involve freaking out.

"Good evening, Susannah." He was still smiling with amusement at my little display, and I couldn't help but absentmindedly ponder over how much I loved the way he spoke. He was always so formal, so old-fashioned. The only cusses I'd ever heard him utter were _dam__n_ and _oh-no._ Of course, there was always the issue of the Spanish, which turned his deep Californian tone into a whole new, exotic accent. But it wasn't _that_ bad, I guess…

I drank Jesse in for the first time that night, noting every detail, from the tiny prickles barely surfacing on his chin, to the little smear of blood on the edge of his sleeve.

"Hey." He sat down at the other end of the sofa, leaning back on the armrest to face me. I picked up the remote to mute the television, which caused him to draw his attention to what was on.

"_Passions?"_ He wrinkled his nose, pausing for a moment. "That has to be the most far-fetched television show I've had the displeasure to watch," he proclaimed good-naturedly. I put my hand over my heart with an expression of mock hurt, accusing him with my eyes.

"Jesse, how can you _say_ that? It's perfectly plausible for that...doll _thing_ to come to life."

He raised his inky black eyebrows at me, daring me to defend the crazy show any further. It only took a few seconds before I relented. "Okay, okay, fine. It's _'far fetched'._" I tried to mimic him. Needless to say, I failed. "But I like it anyway. It's..." I struggled for a moment, trying to find the right word, "...wacky." I said, trying the word on my tongue. It seemed to fit the situation and I beamed up at him, proud of my own word choice.

He smiled to himself then…one of _those_ smiles, where he quirked up only the side of his mouth and gave me a heart-melting view of the tiny dimple in his left cheek. And it reminded me so much, of the days when everything was different, that the breath caught in my throat.

Memories transpired in the forefront of my mind from when I was a teenage girl, and my only troubles were Sister Ernestine with her hall passes and Jesse's complete obliviousness to my feelings. I ached, right down to my bones, for things to be that simple – that easy – again. I longed for the mission, for Father D., for Jimmy Choos and the window seat. Mostly…I just wanted to go back to when none of this twisted, completely unjust situation had taken place. The nostalgia was beginning to make my eyes water and I blinked profusely, trying to stop it.

"Susannah," Jesse said softly, breaking me out of my reverie, which had completely destroyed my spell of happiness. I gazed up at the serious expression on his face, his eyes scrutinizing mine, and something inside of me twisted. I was so exhausted from lugging this whole sordid affair around on my shoulders that I just…gave up. I shut my eyes for a moment, and wetness traced down my cheeks like a white flag. A small, cathartic sob erupted from my lips and I started falling.

Being married to Paul had meant that I had no choice but to be strong. I had to grin and bear it because if I let my demeanour slip, just for a _moment_, and think about how my life had turned out, then the world as I knew it would fall apart. Somehow I knew that I would just begin hysterically screaming and I wouldn't be able to stop myself. So I kept my mouth shut. I went about my life, trying not to make him angry, acting like the good little stepford wife and choking my own genuine feelings.

Until I snapped.

The rage I unleashed on Paul was complete, raw fury that had been building within me ever since he gripped me into the arrangement. But now that the rage was gone, all that was left inside was sadness. The aftermath was an overwhelming depression about the things I had missed out on, about my complete futility and the intense fear that I couldn't tell anybody about; that he would find me and force me to suffer like that again.

Jesse caught me as I fell and I turned into him, trusting him and completely giving in to what the part of my mind – that was still working – wanted. He stroked my hair, tenderly and slowly, as I let my worries and sadness soak into his shirt in the form of tears.

I guess I must have passed out at some point, because when I next opened my eyes, my head was lying on Jesse's knees, saltwater dried on my face from my crying session. I noticed, with no small amount of pleasure, that Jesse was still stroking my hair, eliciting warmth that spread through my body. I tamped down on the feeling and swallowed thickly, staring straight ahead at the muted television.

Because if I thought about what I was about to do, I would lose all my nerve and back out.

"He…hits me." The words themselves were not unlike a stinging blow, in the silent hush of the room. Jesse's hand halted in my hair and I felt his whole body underneath me tense. I cleared my throat because my voice was hoarse and sat up slowly, looking hesitantly into Jesse's black eyes, trying to ascertain some indication of how he was going to react.

"He _hits _you." He said painstakingly slowly, as if the words were unfamiliar to him; in the wrong order somehow. His eyes closed for a moment before he opened them again and took a deep breath. I bit my lip and swallowed again. "We are speaking about your husband, I presume." his words were clipped, as if he was holding back an emotion.

Which emotion it was…I couldn't tell.

"I, um, yes. But-but please don't call him th-that," I stuttered, forcing my gaze into my lap – anything to avoid his cold, steely gaze. I pushed back the tears with a sniffle, hoping I hadn't ruined everything with Jesse. If I thought about it, he was pretty much all I had left.

Jesse was silent for so long that I looked up timidly from my hands to see him sitting perfectly still, eyes closed and hands clenched into fists. "Jesse, I-" I what? Wanted to apologise? Would he even _allow_ me that?

"How often?" He said so quietly that I wouldn't have heard him had the TV not been muted.

"Wh-"

"_How. Often?"_ He demanded, his repeated words much louder. I flinched from their sheer force. "And don't tell me it only happened once, Susannah. I can't…I can't even…" he faltered, his face conveying just how much this was affecting him. His sad eyes bore into mine, baring my soul to him and openly displaying my painful secrets. I averted my eyes to my hands and murmured my reply to them, instead of his convicting face.

A shock like a white-hot poker shot through me when I suddenly felt Jesse's warm hand on my chin, tilting my face upward so he could look in my eyes. I had no choice but to look him straight in the eye when I repeated my response.

"A…a few times."

"A...few times a…_year?_ A _month?_" He asked, frantically grasping for the answer. I tried my best to look down, sideways, _anywhere_ but his passionate, piercing black eyes. Everything was quiet for a moment, and I could hear his laboured breathing in the stillness of the room.

"A-a few times a week?" he asked in an odd, quiet voice that sounded choked somehow. I looked up at him through my black eyelashes and blinked, drawing my bottom lip into my mouth, which made him release me like I'd suddenly caught fire. He leant back on the sofa, a horrified expression marring his dark features. His eyes went wide, staring downwards but seeing nothing. _"Why?_ Why did he-" He ran a shaky hand through his thick, crisp hair, disturbed.

"It's all over now. He doesn't care about me anymore." I said quickly, trying to calm him down, "But I…I don't know." I mumbled downward, which seemed to be the only method of communication readily available to me at the moment, "I guess…I guess I must have done something to make him-" But that was as far as I got because suddenly I saw his hands rushing toward me, out of the edge of my somewhat blurred vision. In retrospect, I realise he must have been intending to put his hands on my shoulders to do that staring-into-my-eyes thing that told me he was dead serious. But at that precise moment, an intense and irrational feeling of utter dread hit me like a blow to my stomach. My instincts screamed at every nerve I possessed, to block myself from the impending danger. I took in a petrified gasp and my blood chilled in my veins.

"_Don't!" _I breathed as I shrunk back quickly, turning my face to the side so my chin hit my shoulder and covering it by throwing my arms up in front of myself. I flattened myself to the other side of the sofa, tears in my eyes, for a fraction of a second…before I remembered:

I was with _Jesse_.

Not with Paul.

Oh, _no…_

I guess I just…sat there for a while, not wanting to believe what I'd just done; how utterly stupid I'd been. But I had to move sooner or later – I couldn't hide from him forever. I wished I could, though.

I lowered my shaking arms from my face, incredibly slowly, my eyes wide with an emotion _I_ couldn't even identify; much less understand. I dared not look into his eyes; I chose a spot to stare at on the floor, where the blue carpet was slightly worn. The aftermath of fear still lingered on my skin, my stomach growing increasingly nauseous with every passing second. A teardrop threatened to ebb from my eye, but I didn't dare reach up to wipe it away in case he realised what I was doing. I couldn't raise my eyes to look at him. I honestly couldn't. Not after…oh, _God_…

He said something that I, in my perturbed state, didn't hear or comprehend and I tried to laugh, my voice sounding like shrapnel to my own ears. "Oh," I forced, "I, uh, um, natural instinct, huh?" I physically felt sick with mortification, like my whole body was churning in on itself.

"Makes me understand how hard he hits you." Jesse said, extremely slowly. I wasn't even looking at him, but by his tone of voice, I knew that he was utterly livid. I finally looked up shakily to notice a muscle leaping in his jaw. "_I_ was not, however, going to _hit_ you, Susannah." His words were clipped again, which caused the most painful feeling in my chest.

"I – no, I know that. I just…Um, I just…Look Jesse, I'm just really tired," I lied. There was no chance of me falling asleep with so many disturbing thoughts swirling around in my mind, swooping down on my consciousness one by one like birds of prey.

"I'll show you to your room." He said in an ice-cold tone of voice that assured me this conversation was far from over. He led me down the hallway, into a small room at the very end, which had a bed, desk and dresser furnishing it. I smiled instead of saying thankyou and he nodded briskly before heading into the door on the right of the hall; his bedroom, I presumed. I sat on the bed, my head in my hands. I felt so low just then; like I couldn't even…sink anymore.

But then…however much I felt disgusted with myself for my actions, I actually felt _safe_ for the first time in a long time. It was unfathomably reassuring, having his presence in the next room down.

As soon as he shut his bedroom door, I drew back the covers of the white bed, slid in feet first and laid my head down on the pillow, succumbing to my drowsiness. And here I'd thought I wasn't going to get any sleep.

The thought that I might finally experience an uninterrupted night's sleep without medical help was the very last thing on my mind before I drifted off into a restless sleep.

* * *

_Please review :)_


End file.
